Sour Grapes
by DayDreamer087
Summary: Sam shook his head in denial. “It’s bad enough he’s coming, but he has a family coming with him? There’s a Mrs. Simmons and a mini Simmons out there in the world somewhere! That’s gonna keep me up all night man!”
1. Chapter 1

**(AN)- Welcome to my first ever fanfiction. I hope you enjoy the story I plan on weaving, and reviews are most welcome. Thanks for reading.**

_Sour Grapes_

_Chapter 1-A Cloudy Sky_

* * *

"Mr. Prime. I trust you are enjoying your newly finished accommodations."

Optimus Prime stood before a large tv screen on which the face of Defense Secretary Keller was displayed. He gave a courteous nod. It had not been an easy or cheap task for the military to build a place big enough to hide Prime and his men. They had risen to the occasion, finishing the large base hidden beneath the earth within a month. "Indeed Mr. Secretary, my men and I are most grateful for your assistance in procuring ourselves a base that is equipped for our needs."

"Good, good," Mr. Keller said a bit awkwardly. Prime understood his nervousness. Humans were not used to conversing with giant robots from another planet. The relationship between the autobots and the U.S. government was being newly forged and was still quite fragile.

"What may I do for you today Mr. Keller? I assume you did not call just to check up on our living arrangements."

"Yes well, you recall the matter we discussed a few weeks ago? The need for there to be a human liaison representing the government and aiding in any needs you and your men may have?"

"I do."

"After some deliberation between myself and others I believe we've decided on someone."

"And are you sure this individual will be qualified to deal with such a…unique situation?"

"Yes, because he's already had experience with this matter. With the suspension of the Sector Seven program we've got people with quite a bit of knowledge that we don't want roaming about in fast food places or grocery stores. We've been working on finding other means of governmental employment for them."

"I see."

"Now I know your previous encounters with Mr. Simmons have not been of the most pleasant nature. He is not the most socially apt person, but he is loyal to his job. I believe he can serve you and your team well."

Prime was silent for a moment trying to tap into his diplomatic side. He did not like Agent Simmons. His sarcastic and odd nature was extremely off-putting. He knew the rest of his team shared this opinion. But he did not want to go starting disagreements with the humans when things were so new between them. The only choice was to make the best of things.

"If you believe that Agent Simmons is qualified for the position then I will of course trust your judgment Secretary Keller," he said in what he hoped was a sincere tone.

"It's settled then. We'll be sending Simmons down to you in three days. I'll be sending you all of his information momentarily."

"Thank you very much Mr. Secretary."

"Take care Mr. Prime."

The Autobot leader watched as the screen filled with words depicting the life of Reginald Simmons. A few facts surprised him quite a bit, but none lifted the heaviness of knowing what he was going to have to deal with shortly. All the optimism in the world wouldn't brighten this scenario. But as the leader he had to set a good example for the rest of his team. Squaring his shoulder and wishing he could disconnect his auditory processors for this, he prepared to go and share the news with his men. He was sure the reactions he was about to face would qualify as something the humans referred to as sour grapes.

* * *

"You know Sam, maybe if you cleaned this pigsty you call a room you wouldn't lose everything!"

Sam Witwicky glanced up from the mountainous pile of papers he was frantically looking through. He'd had his math homework all finished, one of the few times he'd ever completed a homework assignment and now he couldn't find it. He glared at the brunette who was currently knee deep in a pile of clothes he'd been meaning to wash for about three weeks. "It's not a pigsty Mikeala. It's organized chaos ok!"

Mikeala snorted. "Yeah, well your organized chaos is going to make us late."

Sam groaned and went back to his desperate search. "God," he muttered softly. "Could this day get any worse?"

"Ew, Sam what did you spill all over your history book? You haven't opened this up at all have you? I guess you didn't study for the test today since this book is unusable."

Sam stood up, his jaw dropping in horror. "The test is today?"

"I've only been reminding you all week," Mikeala said placing her hands on her hips.

Sam lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "That was a rhetorical question, not a challenge," he yelled to whatever deity had decided to make his life hell today.

After ten minutes he finally found his homework wedged in-between his desk and the wall. Mikeala breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god, can we go now?"

"Yeah, yeah. I didn't know you liked school so much Mikeala."

"I don't, but I don't want a strike against me for being late either."

The two teens thumped down the steps and headed out the front door. It had been a month, and yet every time Sam looked at the vehicle parked on his driveway he still had to suppress the urge to jump up and down screaming like a little girl. The glossy paint on his 2009 Camaro reflected the sun, giving the car an almost ethereal glow. He would never get over the pride of driving that car around and seeing the shocked and jealous faces of onlookers. And they had no clue that the awesomeness of his car went far beyond the slick paint and sick engine. Only he and Mikeala knew the truth; that the car was actually a sentient being from outer space that could change into a gigantic robot at will.

Sam unlocked the door allowing Mikeala and himself to climb in. He slowly went through the motions of putting the key in the ignition, but it was all show of course. Bumblebee was the one in control as the engine roared to life and the radio settled on a station. Sam put his hands gingerly on the steering wheel, miming the act of driving as the car pulled out onto the street.

"Did you find what you were searching for Sam," came a voice with a distinctly British undertone through the speakers of the radio.

"Yeah, thanks for driving me back home Bee. I'm sure playing chauffer to a bunch of kids isn't your favorite job." They had picked Mikeala up and been halfway to the high school when Sam had realized he'd left his homework at home.

"It was no problem at all. I had no other duties at that moment."

"I can't believe you actually did your homework Sam. Mr. Davis is going to drop dead at the sight," Mikeala said with a taunting smile.

Sam feigned offense. "I'll have you know that I am a very studious student Mikeala." The brunette rolled her eyes with a smile.

The day inside the prison that was called school passed slowly and painfully as usual. Thinking he was going to receive praise for doing his math homework, Sam was devastated to discover that he had done the wrong set of problems. As he probed his brain and did the best he could to dreg up the answers to the multiple choice questions of his history test, his gaze flickered to the window where he could see the student parking lot. Bumblebee stuck out like a sore thumb of course. This was probably boring as all hell for him, sitting on asphalt doing nothing all day. He wondered what his friend did to keep himself amused during the hours of school.

"Five more minutes," the teacher called.

Sam turned his attention back the mess that was his test. Essays…god could he find the words to adequately express how much he hated essays? He would bs them both of course. Really why did they teach history in school? If he cared about what the world had been like in the Stone Age he'd just ask his parents for crying out loud!

Thus when the bell rang and Sam headed out towards the parking lot he did so in less than jovial spirits. He wasn't a straight A student, but he could pull out a few A's here and there when he needed to. He'd managed 3 A's when it was what his father had required in order to get him a car. But he'd had a lot to deal with in the past month. Trying to find covers for all his secret rendezvous with the Autobots so that his parents wouldn't be suspicious seemed to be a full time job now. And he'd been stuck with the American government more times than he'd like to recall, signing confidentiality papers and such. With all that had been going on it had been hard to remember anything school related. Mikeala sensed his mood and did not dredge up the subject as they got into the car.

Mikeala kept Bumblebee stuck in conversation so that Sam was free to try and clear his mind. God he was so damn lucky to have her, and he reminded himself of that fact at least 20 times daily. Never mind that her ex Trent wanted to turn him into a bug like smear on the school floor, she was so worth it. With all the crap going on with getting the Autobots settled and promising the government they wouldn't tell anyone the truth he'd had very little alone time with Mikeala. With Ratchet's ability to read hormone levels he couldn't even think romantic thoughts about her when around the autobots. Not unless he wanted the alien medic to announce his lust to the whole freaking world. Super intelligent alien robots did have their disadvantages it seemed.

"Uh Sam…I know you're having fun perusing the dark and empty abyss that is your mind, but you're supposed to look like your driving remember?"

Mikeala's voice pulled Sam from his thoughts. "Oh, right."

"My sensors indicate that you are in need of recharge Sam. Did you not get an appropriate amount of recharge last night?"

"Ah, no Bee I didn't. I was up all night trying to do the homework that I didn't have time to do during the day because I had to meet with government officials and swear for the thousandth time that I wasn't going to try and out you guys."

"I apologize. This process is uncomfortable for all of us, but it shall pass in time." Bumblebee was silent for a moment and then sounded cautious with his next few words. "Speaking of uncomfortable, I have some news that Prime has asked me to share with you."

Sam suppressed a sigh. Bee's tone did not sound like it was going to yield information of a pleasant nature. "What's up?"

"If you'll recall, Prime and your government were discussing posting a human liaison at the base." Sam nodded his head and Bumblebee continued. "Prime received conformation today that they have picked someone for the position."

"Well that's good right?" Mikeala asked. "I mean I know he really won't be much help to you guys, but it makes the government feel more secure which in the end will better things for you guys won't it?"

"That is doubtful." Distaste colored the autobot's tone. "The man your government has chosen for the job is one Agent Reginald Simmons."

Sam's jaw dropped in horror. "Simmons? SIMMONS! As in the crazy asshole that practically kidnapped us?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Your Secretary of Defense feels that Simmons will adequately act as a means of communication and trust between our two factions."

Mikeala snorted. "Right because that creep is just loaded with social skills," she said sarcastically. He just oozes charm and charisma."

"More like he oozes fire and brimstone from the fiery pits of hell he came from," Sam added angrily. "Prime isn't going to let them do this is he?"

"Optimus wants to trust their judgment so that they will in turn trust ours. He says that Simmons is doing us a great service by uprooting his family to come and make residence in Tranquility."

"Oh yeah, poor Simmons I'm sure he...wait a minute…did you say family?"

"Indeed. Records state that he has a wife and daughter close to your age."

Mikeala balked. "Someone married him…my God. I bet his kid is just as nasty."

Sam shook his head in denial. "It's bad enough he's coming, but he has a family coming with him? There's a Mrs. Simmons and a mini Simmons out there in the world somewhere?! That's gonna keep me up all night man!"

"Believe me I share your dislike for this situation but there is nothing we can do. The decision has been made and Agent Simmons and his family will arrive in three days."

"Three days?" Mikeala repeated weakly.

"This day just blows," Sam muttered dejectedly.

"Consider yourselves lucky," Bumblebee said. "The three of us will only have to interact with him when we check in at the base. Prime, Ratchet and Ironhide must deal with him on a daily basis."

"Ha Ironhide will blow him to smithereens before the end of day one," Mikeala announced.

"I bet he doesn't make it through the first hour," Sam countered.

Mikeala groaned. "Simmons…here…God I don't think I can handle it. Any chance we can avoid going to the base at all from now on Bee."

A chuckle sounded through the radio. "I'm not suffering by myself; I'll drag you with me every time I have to go."

"That's cruel man," Sam said.

"Indeed, but I'm sure you'll survive. Mikeala, I believe this is your stop."

Sam hadn't been concentrating on the road at all, but there was Mikeala's house.

"See you tomorrow guys," she said as she unfolded herself gracefully from the car. Sam tried not to drool as her watched her long tanned legs carry her up the steps and through the door. He let out a long yawn and the car began to move again. "Man I'm beat. I'm crashing the second we get home."

"I'm afraid not Sam. You're supposed to help your father with the new water feature he bought for the backyard."

Sam winced. His father seemed convinced that he had the gift of a handyman inscribed in his veins. A thought which had been disproved on numerous occasions yet he stubbornly ignored. And he still had at least six hours of homework to catch up on. It looked like it was going to be another night of very little sleep for him. But hey…things could always be worse.

* * *

**(AN)- I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Please hit the review button and let me know your thoughts.**


	2. Lamenting

_Sour Grapes_

_Chapter 2— Lamenting_

Why? Why in the name of all that was supposed to be holy on this earth did he get stuck in this position? This was ludicrous, and an insult to the legacy that lived in his veins! Why his great-grandfather had been the one to pull NBE-1 out of the ice! His grandfather and father had molded Sector Seven with their own two hands. He was supposed to follow in their footsteps, making earth shaking discoveries and protecting the earth from those troublesome giant trashcans. His whole life had revolved around keeping the NBE's away…now he was supposed to babysit them?! The well-oiled machine that was supposed to be the U.S governmental system had lost a few gears as far as he was concerned.

It was Reginald Simmons' opinion that any and all NBE's were threats to the nation and should be incarcerated immediately. After all look at the destruction that had been left in the wake of Mission City. How many people had seen something they shouldn't have and were now freely walking about blabbing to anyone who would listen? Given, a battle between large robots was a hard story to swallow and the cover up designed to explain away Mission City had been rather convincing, but still, there was a risk out there. Simmons detested risks. They caused unnecessary panic and chaos and made his life ten times harder than it needed to be. And supposedly friendly or not, those metal freaks were a high security risk.

From a less businesslike angle he had other reasons why he wasn't too keen on this job. He liked his lifestyle where it was, and moving everything he had worked for to a hot and sweaty cesspool like Tranquillity hadn't exactly been number one on his list of goals. And now he had to go home and tell the wife, who he was positive would not been on board for this move either. Since he couldn't tell her that he was moving there to babysit a bunch of delinquent aliens, he was going to have to pretend it was all his idea, thus setting himself up to be the bad guy.

Simmons didn't mind playing the bad guy most of the time. He did what he had too; lied, manipulated, threatened; whatever it took to get him what he needed. But Helen Simmons was smart, and relentless in battle, and he knew she was going to give him a ridiculously hard time. He would never have told any of his superiors, or any one he worked with for that matter, that Helen suspected much more than he would have liked her too. They had never conversed about the matter openly, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. He had told her that he repaired and installed software for the military, which was a good front to explain all of his traveling. But she didn't buy the cover, and he knew it. The unwritten rule between them had always been she wouldn't ask, so that he wouldn't have to tell a lie she wouldn't believe. In the end it was his fault for a marrying a woman with too much brainpower on her side.

Simmons released a sigh of escalating anxiety as he pulled into the driveway of his impressive residence. He was home three days early so Helen would know immediately that something was up. Maybe he could tell her a half truth. His job had been dissolved after all, and he was being relocated to a new position. It left a lot of the facts out, but it wasn't an outright lie. And after all, if he was supposed to choose between Nevada and unemployment he was pretty sure she would agree that Nevada was the best plan.

The sound of the key clicking into the lock seemed like a bell tolling his imminent doom. As he stepped over the threshold he tried to speak in an upbeat manner. "Honey?"

"Reggie, is that you?"

A soft soprano voice called to him from the kitchen. A pale heart-shaped face surrounded by chin length curls greeted him with a smile. Helen may not have been a model but she was the most beautiful thing in the world to him. It was those green eyes; they were the one thing in the whole world that made him feel calm and grounded. He embraced her and took in the smell of her shampoo as he buried his face in her hair. The moment was over quickly however, as Helen pushed away from him looking at him with a scrutinizing glare. "Why are you home early," she asked in a voice that dared him to try and tell her a lie.

"Uh…well…I…that is…the summarized version is that I lost my job." Simmons quickly jumped into the next sentence as he saw his wife's face start to twist into panic and dismay. "But it's ok. You know I've been loyal to this company for a long time Helen, so they took care of me. I've been offered a new position which I've accepted."

Helen didn't look relieved. "But? I know that there's a but coming Reggie, I hear it in your voice."

"Well…the new job requires a bit of sacrifice dear. We'll have to move."

Simmons flinched as his wife's eyes narrowed. "To where exactly?" she asked in a voice that was seething with venom in its quietness.

"Well it's not…um…it's a little town in Nevada."

There was a pregnant pause in which Reginald Simmons saw his life flash before his eyes.

"Nevada. NEVADA. YOU opted to send us to NEVADA; without asking me, without consulting me or thinking about what that would mean for US?"

"Well it was either that or unemployment Helen. What did you want me to do!?"

"I wanted you to say you'd think about it. I wanted you to at least mime the act of giving a thought to your daughter and wife and what their thoughts on a move to Nevada were!"

"It was kind of a red light green light thing hon. I was put on the spot…"

Helen stopped him in his tracks, holding her hand up and practically growling out the words. "ENOUGH. I'm really angry with you right now Reggie, so I'm going to walk away and go cool down before I say something I really regret. We'll finish this conversation later."

Simmons was frozen still awaiting death by angry female as she swooped past him and headed for the stairs.

"Oh and Reggie?"

"Y..Yeah?"

"You get to tell Allison."

It dawned on him what a headache that was going to be and he let out a whine like a wounded animal. "Why me, why?" he repeated as he headed back outside to get his bags from the car. Whatever deity had decided to make his life a consistent and persistent pain in the ass was probably laughing right now.

* * *

As the school bus pulled to a stop outside the Simmons home a girl with shoulder length brown hair stepped out of the obnoxious yellow vehicle and onto the street. Her head was held down and her face bore a sullen expression. When the bus took off down the street her head lifted a little only to droop again when she spotted the familiar vehicle in the driveway. "Great," she mumbled, "just what I needed today."

Most kids would be happy to see their father again after three weeks of his absence. Ally did not fit into that category at all. It wasn't her fault really. Her father didn't illicit warm fuzzy feelings from anyone, except her mother. She'd been trying for 17 years to figure out what her mom had seen in her father and was still coming up with nothing. She was half joking when she considered that maybe her mother had been drunk when she'd married him.

Ally loved her father, she kinda had to, but like him as a person she did not. He was controlling, chaotic, and a bit neurotic. He thought he had the answer to everything in the world and most of the time he was very wrong. Work took him away from home often, but when he was around he insisted on treating her as if she was five. She'd had her permit for a year now, and only got to drive when her father was away and her mother was feeling gracious. She was the only one out of her group of friends that didn't have a license and it was utterly humiliating. None of her peers were even allowed over her house because her father insisted that she keep her bedroom walls the same Pepto-Bismol color it had been painted when she was born. Wall colors like that a wise teenager does not let her friends see.

And so with expectations of a night of annoyances did Ally turn the handle of the front door and enter her house. Her father was seated in the living room watching some action flick with too much testosterone for her taste. She let her backpack slide down her shoulder and slump onto the floor. "Hey Dad."

"Hey kiddo, how was school?"

Ally sighed. "Fine. You're home early aren't you?"

Her father stood, brushing invisible lint or something off of his clothes and looking like he was stalling. "Yeah I'm back early. There have been some rearrangements with my job."

"What kind of rearrangements?"

"Well it's all very complicated and I won't bore you with the small details but I've lost my old job and gained a new job."

Ally headed to the fridge and grabbed a soda. Coming back to the living room she said, "Well that's good then right?"

"Well there is one small downside. Just a little…hiccup. See, the job isn't here, and well the job can't come to me, so I have to go to the job."

"Dad, I'm 17, you can use big-kid terminology."

"We'removingtoNevada," he blurted at hyper speed.

Ally paused, not quite certain she'd heard right. "I'm sorry…did you…did you just say we're moving to Nevada?" She watched as her father slowly nodded his head in confirmation. Ally's face turned white, then slowly turned pink, then darkened to a rage induced red as the words burst from her vehemently. "I'm not even going to bother arguing with you because you're a STUBBORN JERK, but I just want you to know that YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!!! When I grow up to have a complete lack of self-help skills, no social life, and anger issues, I'm going to tell my therapist that it's ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!" With a final growl of livid proportions, she stomped up the stairs and slammed her door with all the force a pissed off 17 year old could muster.

* * *

Simmons contemplated his shortening lifespan as he ate his dinner of reheated meatloaf alone. He did not dare journey up the stairs, as the silence above him persevered. He wondered if the two females above were contemplating his death and shivered.

When dinner was done he settled back on the couch, assuming that was where he'd be spending the night, and stared blankly at the images on the tv screen. He didn't keep track of the time, but regained awareness when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Helen came around the corner and they looked at each other in silence for a long moment.

"Come to bed Reggie."

Heart filled with joy at the realization that he was going to make it to tomorrow Simmons followed his wife up the stairs. Passing Allison's bedroom he heard her lamenting to someone over the phone. He heard something about 'The injustice of the world and that her life was over.' He shook his head. "So dramatic," he muttered as he entered the bedroom. Helen turned to look at him with a slight smirk gracing her lips. "Reggie, honey, Ally is a teenager. She's supposed to be dramatic. You're almost fifty, what's your excuse?"

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night as he tried to figure out the cryptic undercurrent of meaning in that comment.

* * *

**(AN)- Thanks for all the reviews so far! I hope you all enjoyed chapter 2. I know it's kinda short, but don't worry chapter three will be much longer. Leave your thoughts.**


	3. The Welcome Wagon

_Sour Grapes_

_Chapter 3-The Welcome Wagon_

* * *

"You know what I was thinking about?"

Sam and Mikeala were spread comfortably on the grass overlooking the glossy surface of the lake. They had been enjoying their last few moments of peace before they had to head over to the base and pretend to welcome Simmons.

"What?" Mikeala asked, the sun glinting off her chocolate curls as she turned her head to look at him.

"If God made the world in seven days and he rested on the last day…which was Sunday…then that means the earth first started to be created on Monday. So shouldn't Monday be the start of the week and Sunday the end?"

Mikeala propped her head up on her elbow and stared at Sam with a look of incredulity. "Wow Sam. Just when I think I've heard the most random thought that will ever pass through your lips you outdo yourself."

Sam smiled. "Is random good?"

"On you, it's endearing," Mikeala said returning the smile and leaning in to give him a gentle kiss.

"All right you two, time is up," Bumblebee called from further up the hill where he was kindly giving the two teenagers some space.

"I don't want to be diplomatic," Sam whined as he and Mikeala helped each other to their feet.

"Man up Sam. There are worse things in the world than Simmons."

Sam grumbled under his breath as he and Mikeala climbed into Bumblebee's waiting seats.

"Hey Bee," he said, eyes brightening with sudden inspiration as the car took off down the dirt road, "think maybe we could just sneak in and hide out in the rec-room?" Sam had been educating Bee on the fine art of video games, having convinced Optimus to let him hook up a television and game system under the guise that it would help the autobots better understand human culture to experience human forms of recreation.

Mikeala knew where his thoughts were immediately. "And leave the rest of us to deal with this mess…I don't think so! Besides, you know Bee will just kick your ass anyway."

"We haven't tried first person shooters yet," Sam argued, "that's my forte. But a word of advice, never play a driving game with a guy who can actually turn into a car. You will lose…pitifully."

Mikeala's response to this advice was to issue upon Sam a death glare worthy of the record books. Gulping and quickly looking down to avoid the feminine eyes of wrath Sam quickly recanted his previous statement. "Of course I was just kidding."

With a sigh Mikeala turned her face and stared out the window.

"With any luck Simmons will not linger for a long period of time," Bumblebee said hopefully. "He does after all have family obligations and a new residence to get in order."

That comment raised the trio's spirits only the tiniest amount as they drew closer and closer to the Autobot base.

* * *

The atmosphere within the walls of the Autobots' new home was not much lighter. Only Optimus even attempted to persevere and take things seriously. Simmons did have some power, and he could make things very difficult for them if he so desired. However unappealing the idea was, they were going to have to keep him happy and comfortable. All he could do was hope that Simmons was tired from his journey and would not linger for an extended period of time. He was most worried about Ironhide, who was the trigger-happy bot that had a tendency to lose his temper.

The aforementioned mech, was stomping rhythmically back and forth from wall to wall of the foyer area where he and the others were awaiting Agent Simmons' arrival. Simmons' offensive remarks and overall ignorance twisted Ironhide's circuitry into a knot. He was already peeved so it would probably only take one wayward comment to send him over the edge.

As he watched his weapons specialist with wary eyes he was aware of Ratchet coming to stand by his side. "I had an idea Prime, which I thought I might share with you."

"Proceed Ratchet."

The medic paused for a brief second then explained his thoughts. "Well I was thinking that perhaps I might just remove Agent Simmons vocal cords. I'd be more than capable of performing the operation and in the end it would make all of our days that much more pleasant. We don't have to listen to his incessant whining; you don't have to try and cover up the fact that Ironhide lost his patience and blew him to smithereens. It's a win-win scenario."

Optimus blinked…trying to gage whether or not the medic was earnest or if his words had been in jest.

"Yes Ratchet, because Simmons' sudden inability to speak would not cause suspicion at all."

Ratchet contemplated that newly presented dilemma. "We could stage an accident in which he sustained some sort of damage to the…"

"ENOUGH Ratchet," Prime said softly but with authority ringing through his words. The medic wisely decided to give his own vocal processors a rest.

The sound of an engine in the distance made the three mech tense. A wave of relief passed when they all spotted a familiar yellow Camaro pass through the gates on the many security cameras that graced the walls. Above them there was a click, and a piece of the ceiling descended carrying Bumblebee with it.

Sam and Mikeala exited the vehicle looking as excited to be there as the rest of them were. Bumblebee hastily shifted to his bipedal form and looked around. "He has not yet arrived?"

"Course not," Ironhide spat angrily, "creatures like that don't have the decency to be on time."

"Peace Ironhide," Optimus said in a warning tone.

With a seething mixture between a scream and a groan issuing forth from his person Ironhide took up his angry pacing once more.

For a half an hour there were little sounds but the shuffling of feet, the occasional sigh, and the steady stomping of Ironhide's metallic steps. Then there came the far off, yet unmistakable sound of a car. On the moniters a black car with Simmons undeniable profile within approached the gates. He had not yet been given the clearance code that would open the metal fencing and so there was a beep and his voice (as obnoxious and hectic as ever) blared over a speaker that was present in the corner.

"Are you people, and I use that word tentatively, letting me in or not? I mean really, what's with all the red tape? You big giant lug heads frightened of us little organics?"

There was a palpable mental shudder from all of the current occupents at the sound of his not so dulcet tones. "Can't we just pretend we aren't here?" Sam whispered.

Optimus ignored him, heading for the wall and entering a code into a pinpad. On the camera, the gate swung open and Simmons' car lurched forward. It was too late to turn back now.

Turning to face the two humans and three Autobots behind him Optimus took a moment to gather his thoughts and then spoke carefully. "I am warning you all right now, that I am expecting nothing but the most hospitable and kind natured responses from all of you. DO NOT let him goad you into actions that we will all come to regret. Keep your wits about you. This is your one and only warning. Am I understood?"

He was answered with a chorus of 'Yes sirs', but did not feel much relieved by it.

* * *

Simmons did not like humid climates. Any other sort of weather he could ignore, but humidity just annoyed the crap out of him. So why the hell had he let himself get talked into moving to Nevada? Because he was doomed to a life of misery, that's why.

Helen had a fear of flying, but it was the quickest way to reach their destination. Sitting with an anxiety ridden wife hyperventilating into a brown paper bag on one side, and a hormonal teenager blasting metal music so loud that it had damaged HIS ears had not been a pleasant experience. And what was it all for; what reason was there to lean on to make all his suffering worthwhile? Absolutely fucking nothing, that's what.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove through the large metal gates and towards what appeared to be a dilapidated old barn. Well that was just dandy. Where was he supposed to go now? Ahead of him, he saw a large yellow box painted onto the grass. Well, that wasn't natural, so it was obviously the place for him to be. He pulled the car into the space and then waited his patience already next to nil.

"Fucking robots are supposed to be geniuses and they couldn't even put in a proper entrance," he mumbled to himself, "just goes to show that….HEY!"

His thoughts were interrupted as the car was jarred and a strange mechanic creaking and groaning sounded from all around him. There was a strange sensation of vertigo that hit him and he realized he was moving. The piece of earth he'd parked in was lowering itself deeper in the earth.

"Of course they're underground. Hiding out beneath the earth like…like criminals!" he muttered trying to get rid of the dizzy sensation that now plagued him.

When the ground beneath him stopped moving, and he was sure he wasn't going to lose his breakfast, he ventured to turn his head. There he spotted three of the metal fiends, and those two irksome and delinquent children.

He grimaced and forced himself to get out of the car. "You know, a little warning about the moving floor would have been nice," he spat crankily.

"Our apologies Agent Simmons, we did not intend to alarm you," the biggest metal dude whose name Simmons really couldn't bother to remember said in a friendly manner that he didn't buy for a second.

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't," he scoffed.

"I hope your flight was pleasant," the robot said, another attempt to a friendly start. Simmons wasn't playing. He merely snorted in response.

"How bout you just give me a tour of this lair of yours so I can go home and try and get some rest?"

He heard something muttered and saw the Witwicky boy leaning in towards his criminal partner. "Hey ladiesman, right? Shouldn't you be in school or at home listening to angst-filled music?" He was satisfied to see the boy's face flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. He turned his attention the girl. "And you, little criminal girl, shouldn't you be out working on getting more crap added to your record? Aren't the cars here good enough for stealing anymore?"

"Agent Simmons, Sam and Mikeala are a part of this secret, so I thought it best that they be here as well."

Simmons glowered back at the bot who in his opinion looked ridiculous with painted flames all over his person. "In case you hadn't noticed buddy they're minors. They already know too much and they should be at home keeping their noses out of business that is meant for adults."

"This is a matter I'm sure we can discuss further Agent Simmons. For now, shall I give you a tour of our quarters?"

"Yeah, yeah, let's get this over with."

Simmons had the same overall opinion of every room he was shown. It was way too fucking huge. It boiled his blood to contemplate how much money had been wasted to harbor these…aliens. He vaguely listened as the leader guy attempted to re-introduce himself and his men. Ha, as if he really cared that much. He noticed that as the tour went on, everyone found an excuse to leave. The two humans claimed to have studies to attend too, as if they were the kind of kids who did respectable things like homework. The one that had leaked all over him during their previous encounter left to accompany them. The angry one with the gun far too big for his liking claimed there was something wrong with his giant gun, and the neon-yellow guy who had some sort of name from a toolbox offered to go look it over. Now it was just him and the Optimal or whatever his name was… big, tall, alien dude.

He somehow managed to make it though all of the big guy's never-ending prattle, and then they headed back towards the front room. The other two aliens had relocated there.

"Is there anything else you wanted to address today Agent Simmons?"

He looked up. Man he was going to need a ladder or something so he didn't get a crick in his neck trying to talk to these tall metal freaks. He began to say no, but then a thought struck him. "I have a query for you big guy."

"Ask away."

"What did you do with that metal friend of yours; the one that got decimated at Mission City? I was thinking, you know...a bunch of scrap metal won't do you much good...you should really hand it over to the government. We could make good use of it."

If Simmons had been a socially observant man, he would have noticed the tension that sliced through the air at his words and would have realized he had stepped into dangerous territory. He wasn't however, so he just stared up expectantly, waiting for an answer. Then he heard a loud clicking sound and turned to see that the angry robot was now pointing his gigantic gun in his direction.

"Whatcha…whatcha doing there big guy?"

Blue eyes narrowed, glowing ominously at him. "I'm wondering what a gun of this caliber will do to your sorry hide when I fire at you."

Simmons held up his hands… "Hey now buddy…I just asked a harmless question."

"You are a putrid and disgusting specimen with no thoughts for anyone or anything around you," the bot snarled, jabbing the gun in Simmons' direction and causing him to jump.

He was vaguely aware of the neon robot muttering something that sounded like 'I told you so,' in the direction of the boss-bot who had moved in front of him.

"Gee, he muttered, "for a tough guy you sure are sensitive."

The bot gave a roar and tried to poke the gun around the body of his leader who of course shifted to match his movement. "For a human whose supposed to possess survival instincts you talk far TOO MUCH!!!"

"Ironhide stand down! That's an order!"

The gun wielding robots eyes stayed locked on Simmons. "Come on Prime just an arm or a leg. He'd live…possibly."

Simmons didn't like to be threatened. "Go ahead buddy," he roared back. "Just give me a reason to report your robotic ass!"

The robot gave a dark metallic chuckle. "You won't report anything if you have no mouth to speak with."

Simmons face drained of color, and he stumbled back.

"Ironhide, you will stand down immediately or I will be forced to take action against you!" Finally the gun was lowered, but the blue eyes still gave Simmons the death glare, promising that retribution would come later.

"Agent Simmons, it would be best if you left now," the big guy said, not taking his guess off the other robot. Simmons was only too happy to oblige him. He wordlessly walked to his car as quickly, yet dignified as he could. Internally his mind was frantically ordering him to quit this job immediately. His pride was telling him not to let the giant trashcans win. As he slammed the car door and felt the ground shift under him once more he groaned and once again wondered why he'd done this to himself.

Because he was doomed to a life of misery…that's why.

* * *

**(AN)—Did everyone see the teaser trailer for Revenge of the Fallen? It was short, but intense. What did you all think of it? Oh, yeah, while you're answering that question, what did you think of the chapter? Chapter 4 will be up in about a week, see you all then!**


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